


Of Leather Thongs and Teeth Marks

by Dawnlit_Waters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: A study in Dick Grayson's, Awkwardness, Holy homonyms Batman!, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Outdoor Sex, Some Humor, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnlit_Waters/pseuds/Dawnlit_Waters
Summary: The title says it all.





	Of Leather Thongs and Teeth Marks

**Author's Note:**

> A tribute to this gem of a panel from the glorious Golden Age:
> 
> The above panel comes from the story "The Duplicate Batman!" in _Batman_ #83. A synopsis of it can be found [here](http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Batman_Vol_1_83). You don't have to read it to understand my fic. All you need to know is the "Batman" in the panel is actually a criminal, and Dick, under the impression the man is Bruce with amnesia, is trying to help him remember Batman's past adventures.

_**Now** _

Leaning against the back of the giant company logo sign on the top of the Wayne Entertainment Building, Nightwing watches Batman grasp the hem of the upper section of his suit and drag it all the way up to his upper chest. He fights tooth and nail against the urge to lose himself in the torturously delicious feeling of his nipples hardening in the chilly night air, following with his hooded eyes those gauntlet-clad hands' journey down his flanks, passing his ribcage, his abdomen, lower, lower…Strong yet agile fingers hook themselves under his tights, pulling down—

"You." Batman shakes his head. " _You._ "

Honed by over a decade of practice, Nightwing captures the faint note of laughter in Batman's voice that would go unnoticed by less-trained ears.

His answering chuckle transforms into a moan as the man bites down hard onto the waistband of his T-back leather dance belt, teeth scraping against the taut skin below his navel.

 

_**Many years ago** _

"Shoot away," Robin says magnanimously after choosing truth over dare.

The cheeks of Kid Flash, whose turn it is to ask a question, are rapidly turning into the color of his hair.

"C'mon." Speedy nudges him with an elbow. "We agreed whoever gets the chance first should ask him about it."

Kid Flash swallows, mustering his courage. " _We_ 've been wondering…given your fashion choice, and the need for proper protection…how do you manage to, um, well, you see…"

Speedy cuts him off with an exasperated sigh. "He means how do you make sure your jockstrap doesn’t peek out from under your shorts."

"You guys never cease to amaze me with what occupies your mind," Robin says in mock awe.

"But it's a legit question! You've never had…an _accident_ , despite how easy it has to be for…um…"

Figuring he’d better save Kid Flash before he drowns in awkwardness, Robin answers, "It’s simple, really. I don't wear jockstraps. I've been sticking to dance belts since my circus days. Unlike jockstraps, they don't ruin the lines of your costume, and they aren't _accident_ -prone."

Receiving two blank stares, Robin proceeds to explain what dance belts are.

"So, fortified thongs," concludes Speedy following Robin’s quick lesson.

"Huh? No. What on earth makes you think I was talking about sandals?!"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

It's Robin's turn to wear a blank stare.

"Wait a minute, you honestly don't know 'thong' has multiple meanings? I meant skimpy underwear, G-string and such, not flip-flops."

"I know ‘thong’ may also refer to a strip of leather or hide," Robin replies automatically.

And then it hits him.

_Oh my…That's why Bruce—Holy crap! I—No, nonono…_

 

_**Even earlier** _

"…showing it to him, I said, 'Gosh, Batman—remember this leather thong? It still has your teeth marks in it!'—"

Alerted by the strange look emerging on Bruce's face, Dick pauses the recount of his interaction with Harry Larson, the Bruce Wayne lookalike who dressed up as Batman to assist mobsters and then came to believe he's the real deal after losing his memories. "Are you alright, Bruce?"

Bruce visibly forces his expression back to neutral. "I'm fine. How did you show him the thong?"

"I held it with my hand."

"You mentioned he was groggy. Did he get a good look at what the thing was like?"

"I'm not quite sure."

Try as he may, Dick fails to fathom why Bruce dwells on such details.

"How did he react? Did he say anything?"

"He was rubbing the back of his neck when I talked but said nothing. I know that's a sign of discomfort, but at that time I interpreted it as a reflection of his overall less-than-okay condition, what with getting hit in the head with a hammer and all. You think the thong specifically upset him? But why would it?"

Another strange look flickers across Bruce's features before he suppresses it with a vengeance. "Continue, Dick. Tell me what happened next."

"…Well, I went on to remind him that, hands tied up by the Mad Clown, Batman did an impromptu Iron Jaw act with the thong while sliding down the zip-line."

The bizarre tension about Bruce evaporates as abruptly as how it gathered.

"For real, Bruce, why does that thong matter so much?"

"It doesn't. I was overthinking."

Dick can tell Bruce genuinely means it. Chalking Bruce's odd behavior up to his being yet to fully recover from the recent plane crash that left him stranded in the wild, Dick resumes recounting.

 

_**An hour or so ago** _

Having delivered the last bunch of thugs and a note to 'Haven's Finest to the BPD headquarters, Nightwing allows himself to take a breather. The heavy pressure that has been weighing down on him night and day lessens a little with every lungful of air he inhales.

At the beginning of last week, small-time Camorra chief Gennaro Basile was taken out by an equally small-time rival. A normal Monday in the Bowery, one would say, yet Basile turned out to be the Archduke Franz Ferdinand to Gotham-Blüdhaven underground world's Europe in mid-1914. By dying, he stirred up a pandemonium hundred-fold greater than anything he could possibly scheme while alive. Since Basile's demise, the Bat-family has worked alongside the local police forces around the clock to contain the situation. Thanks to their combined effort, things have finally quieted down tonight.

Nightwing switches on his comm link's microphone. "Batman, this is Nightwing. Just wrapped up here. How's the Gotham front?"

"Stabilized. I've sent others home. They deserve a rest after this ordeal—"

"So do you, B." He can't help but interject. For days Batman has sounded strained and stiff, like an overstrung bow that's on the verge of snapping. And according to their visual call earlier in the day, half of the corpses in the BPD mortuary sport a healthier complexion than Batman right now.

"I need to meet up with Gordon at 0130. He's bringing the new DA. Come join me if you want. I imagine they may have some questions regarding certain events in Blüdhaven in the past few days."

"On my way." _As soon as I swing by my apartment and slip into something more interesting. Somebody's got to shoulder the serious responsibility of helping you unwind._

 

_**A month or so ago** _

"I have finished with Storage B and I—Richard, why are you looking at that strip of leather like that?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Dick sees Bruce's hand twitch at Damian's questioning three shelves down.

"Got lost in memories," he says, not bothering to hide his sheepishness at being caught daydreaming about Batman, leather thong, and teeth marks. If anything, it'll help with his tactic.

"What memories?"

"This strip of leather is the source of the single, greatest homonyms-related embarrassment in my life. Considering my name is Dick, that really is quite something, you know." Reverse psychology. The bigger a deal you make something appear to be, the less likely a cocky thirteen-year-old is going to find it interesting.

" _Tt_. Spare me the details."

As predicted, Damian goes back to updating the Bat-memorabilia catalog without demanding to be told more.

With a lop-sided smile, Dick turns toward Bruce. _Wouldn't mind seeing you leave some more teeth marks in a leather thong,_ he mouths, punctuating the end of his tease with a wink. His smile develops into a full-on grin as desire chases away the lingering uneasiness in Bruce's eyes.

 

_**Now** _

Withdrawing his teeth, Batman examines the indent they've created. The ghost of a satisfactory smirk plays about his lips. He moves on to the triangular panel covering Nightwing's hardness, nipping at the spot underneath which its sensitive head lies with just enough force to leave temporary marks in his wake.

A string of keening sounds escapes Nightwing's throat. The small part of his brain that remains somewhat lucid registers the movement of Batman's palms— _when did he take the gauntlets off?_ —up and down his thighs. A gesture of possessiveness, and an effort to calm him. The sparks of thrill the former kindles render the latter futile.

Batman's teeth begin their slow trail along the length of his shaft, alternating between nibbling and scraping, lavishing each inch with sweet-agonizing caresses.

The pleasure ricocheting inside Nightwing grows more and more overwhelming as Batman approaches the base. His knees buckle, threatening to give out. Batman keeps him steady with two hands on the smooth expanse of his hips, fingers digging into his trembling buttocks.

"I…can't…B…I'm ab-about to…" Nightwing hears himself utter against the loud background noise of his own heartbeats.

Batman sinks his teeth into the flesh he's been toying with.

"H-ngh." The exquisite pain pushes Nightwing over the edge.

He's both falling and soaring. He’s both dead and alive. His entire universe narrows down to the intense sensations aroused by the man whose soul resonates with his.

When his post-climax white-out ebbs, Nightwing finds himself towered over by Batman's dark silhouette. He beams at the sight that instills fear into the most hardened criminals and leans in for a kiss. The titillating smell of leather, his own release, and Batman's skin drives a moan out of him before their lips touch.

Running out of oxygen, Nightwing rests his head on Batman's shoulder. His chest heaves against the man's, the friction between his nipples and the textured fabric of Batsuit sends jolts of reawakened excitement down his spine.

"We need to go somewhere more private and get you out of this," Batman murmurs against the shell of Nightwing’s ear as he runs a thumb down the leather string between his cheeks, pausing halfway to circle his entrance.

"It's a shame we can't keep this teeth marks-covered leather thong in the memorabilia collection," Nightwing jokes, rubbing his groin on Batman’s inner thigh.

"We could start another collection in our bedroom. Put the spare walk-in wardrobe to use."

"That wardrobe is _huge_."

"Would you settle for anywhere smaller?"

"Of course not! Let's head back right now. I'm dying to christen our new display space."

**Author's Note:**

> That Dick prefers [dance belts](https://imgur.com/a/tMlrQKp) over jockstraps is a headcanon of mine. [Male aerialists wear dance belts](http://www.dancebelt.info/17165091C1D94631B10E/readers-write-back-essays/dance-belts-for-aerialists-.html), so they are probably the type of supportive undergarment Dick is most familiar with. And given the respective shortness and tightness of Dick's Robin and Nightwing suits, I find it stands to reason that he remains loyal to dance belts in his crimefighting years (as opposed to switching to jockstraps that are more or less difficult to cover with tiny shorts and create dreadful panty lines).
> 
> In case you want to know more about the leather thong Robin talks about in the comics, [here](https://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/152055/when-did-batman-s-leather-thong-get-teeth-marks-in-it) is a Stack Exchange post that goes into details.
> 
> -
> 
> …Part of me still can't believe I wrote a fic based on the (in)famous leather thong panel.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Feedback in any form is most welcome. <3


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